The Right Stuff
by Adarian
Summary: Isabela decides to give Hawke a very memorable evening after her brother spills the beans about her lack of previous romantic history. Written for a kink-meme request.


"Carver," Isabela smirked, "Did you just say what I thought you said?"

"What, that my perfect older sister can't even land herself a man?" Carver huffed, "You go on about how gorgeous she is. I'm the real catch, and we both know it. You want a man who knows what he's doing, who knows how to make you scream."

"Trust me," Isabela smirked as she stood from the table, "You don't need a man for that."

Isabela walked over to the other table, seeing Merrill and Hawke drinking together while comparing notes on a spell book. Isabela grinned, taking another drink from her flask. The innocent ones were never the ones you expected.

"Hawke," Isabela greeted, sliding in beside her, "Your brother tells me the wildest stories about the two of you growing up."

"Oh," Hawke laughed, "Like when Farmer Maggon chased us out of his field with a broom, thinking we were field mice? Or Peaches, did he ever tell you about Peaches? He praised that girl like she was manna from heaven. He used to write her little love letters that Bethany and I would steal."

"Aw," Merrill replied dreamily, "That's romantic. You should have been nicer to him. All he wanted was someone to love."

"Trust me," Hawke replied, "Love is not what he was after. Then and now."

Merrill blushed slightly and excused herself as Isabela slipped her arm around Hawke's shoulders.

"And what are you after?" Isabela asked, her fingers stroking Hawke's arm through the thin fabric of her robes, "He mentioned he was not the only one chasing after little girls as a child."

Hawke blushed, "I was more…subtle. Leaving daisies on porch steps. A few chaste kisses here and there. Nothing more."

Hawke bit her lip, looking up at Isabela, "Carver has a much more interesting sexual past if you're looking for that sort of thing. Even as an adult, my wooing has not been spectacular."

"I'm not talking about courtship, Hawke," Isabela replied, leaning in to kiss Hawke's neck, "I'm just talking about some good fun between friends."

Isabela nipped slightly as she pulled away, causing a brighter flush to pass through Hawke's cheeks.

"Here? Now?" Hawke whispered in surprise.

"Here. Now."

Isabela rose, sauntering over to the bar and grabbing another bottle of wine. She flipped some coin on the counter and signaled Hawke to follow her out into the streets of Lowtown.

Hawke reached for her hand as Isabela brought her behind the tavern, the pleasant hum of the patrons inside still audible to them. Isabela picked Hawke up, helping her on top of a barrel of ale. Hawke drank from the bottle of wine, blushing fiercely as Isabela unlaced Hawke's boots, kissing her feet playfully.

"Bela," Hawke whispered, "Should we be here? I don't even know what I'm-"

"Shh, kitten," Isabela said, smiling as she pulled Hawke's leggings down, "You don't have to worry about a thing."

Discarding the leggings to the side, Isabela's hand went underneath Hawke's robes, pulling the skirts to the side as she pulled her smallclothes off. She tucked these into her pocket, feeling Hawke's arousal beaded into the cloth.

Hawke went to protest as Isabela's head slipped underneath the skirt, cupping Hawke's ass as she pulled her close to her mouth. Hawke sighed as Isabela licked down her sex. Hawke wrapped her hands in Isabela's hair as Isabela squeezed her ass harder, lapping at her lips.

Hawke moaned out, bucking against Isabela's mouth, her clit rubbing her skin. Isabela went deeper into her, curling her tongue up to stroke. Hawke cried out, digging her fingers into her hair, crying as Isabela's hand ran down her thigh.

Isabela smiled, quickening the pace as Hawke screamed, "Maker, don't stop!"

Hawke came the first time with a bellow, holding onto Isabela as if she was a raft in a storm. The second with a slight whimper, the mage's legs shaking around her neck in a way that pleased her greatly.

Isabela kissed her sex affectionately before coming back to the surface. She saw Hawke panting, her cheeks deliciously pink, her lips even redder. Hawke kissed her, slightly collapsing into Isabela's arms. The kiss tasted of wine, piss, and honey. The two rested their foreheads together, grinning.

"I should get you home, I think," Isabela suggested.

"Maker, no," Hawke replied, kissing her again, "I need to learn how to do that."

"Then why don't you come back inside with me?"

Hawke followed Isabela back into the Hanged Man, holding onto desperately to the bottle of wine. A few snickers at their direction informed Isabela that Hawke's screams had been well appreciated. Carver's eyes met hers, his paled face suggesting that he had not been so pleased. He glared as the pair climbed the stairs back to Isabela's room.

Isabela would be more than happy for his sister to prove him wrong. Preferably twice.


End file.
